Escape
by Page1229
Summary: Mukuro was a little girl once. She was a slave and wished for freedom. One-shot but might add on.


Disclaimer: Would I be a broke college student if I owned anything?

Note: I previously tried to write a story about Mukuro but it didn't turn out well. So I made this little one-shot and if you like it, review and I might be able to make another chapter.

Escape

In a small cell, a little girl with red hair was curled up in a corner. Her tears streamed down her fragile face as she silently wept. The shackles on her wrists and ankles had rubbed her skin raw, causing the slightest movement of her joints to sting. She was close to sleep when she heard keys rattling in the lock of her cell. Instinct had her pressed against the wall, hoping in vain that she would just vanish and the man would move on.

"Get up," the man ordered harshly. When she did not comply, he walked into her cell. She hated whenever he did because it felt like an intrusion into her space. Her cell was her only haven but it was constantly desecrated by this man. "I said," he reached for her arm and pulled her up roughly, "get up!" He ignored her cry as she felt her arm almost being yanked out of its socket. "Your father wants to see you."

"No," she cried weakly. "It's my birthday, I don't want to see him!"

"But that's exactly why he wants to see you." The man stroked her face in an almost tender way. "His precious little girl is getting older and needs special attention."

"I don't want to see him!" She tried to pull away but the man held onto her. As the girl jerked in his grip to try and loosen it, the man's other hand went out and grabbed her other arm. She was forced to look into his eyes, his cold black eyes. They held no pity or sorrow, all she saw was anger and disgust. With her image reflected by his pupils in the dim light, the girl saw how pathetic she looked: ragged clothes barely stayed on her shoulders, her hair was long and tangled and dirty, her face was sunken in and there was muck on one side. The only beautiful thing about her was her startling blue eyes.

Bruises started forming under the man's grip. "I'm not going to hit you like usual because it's your birthday and your father wants you to look pretty when he sees you. But any more disobedience and you're going into the closet." The girl stopped struggling as he said this. The closet was a nickname for a closed off cell that did not have bars or a window like hers did. It was four stone walls and a door. There was not enough space for her bedroll in there so she would be forced to sleep on a pile of soiled straw. The man grinned, seeing the panic on her face. "That's a good girl. Now come on, we can't make your father wait."

—

The girl was back in her cell, her sobbing raked through her small form. She began to hiccup after a while, remembering her father's touch. She begged him to stop when he removed her rags. He scolded her gently and placed her on the bed, calling her his little birthday girl. The girl felt disgusting and wanted nothing more than to die. Her life was an endless cycle of cleaning, crying, and being used. She tried to think of something good, something that would bring her joy. But her current pain was too hard to think through.

She reached under her bedroll and grasped a hilt. Removing her hand, the blade of a kitchen knife reflected the moon's white image. She stared at it, marveling at the beauty of such a simple instrument. Touching the side of the blade, she shivered at how cold it felt. Her mind wandered and she thought about the possibilities the knife possessed. She remembered the man with the black eyes who would beat her if she did not listen to him. Then she remembered her father and his disgusting touch. Last she remembered herself, reflected in the eyes of the man and in the eyes of her father. She pressed the point of the blade lightly against her stomach, unsure of whether to continue or not. When she began reasoning that her life was aimless, she threw the knife away from her as if it were a snake.

The sound of steel scraping against stone echoed down the corridor and caused the black eyed man to stir in his sleep. He was leaning back in a wooden chair when he dozed off, clueless about what had almost disturbed his slumber.

The girl stood up and walked over to her barred window. She jumped several times, her chains rattling as she tried to grab the edge of the opening. When she could finally grip the edge, she pulled herself up to look out. The moon was a full white disk in a black sky littered with stars. The horizon held distant snowy mountains with large valleys at their bases. The valleys turned into wastelands halfway to the fortress the girl was in. A few towns could be seen all over the landscape, housing demons that had no idea a little girl was willing to switch places with any of them no matter the situation. A gentle breeze picked up and caressed the girl's face; the smell of flowers and wet grass greeted her nostrils.

"Someday," she whispered to herself. It was a promise she would keep.


End file.
